


Flight Punishment

by ecrituredudesir



Category: Original Work
Genre: Electricity, Sounding, Stretching, Torture, Urethral Play, binding, electric shock torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 15:43:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15416229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrituredudesir/pseuds/ecrituredudesir
Summary: (A commission for someone on furaffinity)A new law passes overnight that imposes hefty fines for flying without a permit. Gina, who is unaware of this new law, faces a week of 'community service' punishment at the hands of a pain-testing laboratory for violating the law.





	Flight Punishment

When Gina’s city had passed the ‘No permit, no fly’ law, it had gone almost largely unnoticed by most of the community until many of its residents found themselves not only ticketed, but in some cases, outright arrested if they were caught flying without a city-approved permit in the airways. There were some rumors that were whispered about the secrecy of the law, and that maybe it was just a plot to either pad the pockets of the politicians behind it, or that there were more sinister reasons behind the enforcement—whichever it was, Gina found herself in a court of law answering her first ticket with the charges of a hefty sum that she found that she wouldn’t be able to pay.   
  
She was given the option of community service, or to pay a few thousand dollars for violation of the fine, and out of the two, the thought of losing nearly a month’s worth of paychecks came at too much a cost. If there was anything that she could do for community service, she saw that it would be better than risking not being able to pay her bills for a month—and solemnly, she agreed to a week of community service.   
  
That was how she found herself here; the judge had assigned that she would work for a local nonprofit scientific research lab that was specialized in government projects. She’d been told to dress in professional clothes and that if she did anything other than what the scientists in the lab told her to do, she’d be facing much worse than the fine that she’d managed to worm her way out of paying—the thought was a little terrified, even if she just thought she’d be doing light secretary work, or perhaps helping the janitorial staff. The woman behind the desk gave her a somewhat skeptical look as she arrived, before handing her a clearance pass and sending her on her way down the hallway to a certain room number.   
  
While Gina couldn’t help but be confused, she simply thought it would be a room to clean. The door was opened by a somewhat tired looking zebra anthro, who gestured to the center of the room. “You’ll be helping us with a few of our tests. “Take your clothes off and lay down on the table. You’re going to be helping us run a few tests today.”  
  
Gina paled, biting her lower lip. “I thought I was just going to be a lab assistant for the week…?” She started to question, but with a stern glance, her protests were silenced.  
  
“Would you rather I call the probate judge and ask him why you’ve decided not to cooperate on your community service?” He questioned, lifting his brows. He was absolutely serious, and she could tell that instantly—so with some regret, she closed her break, her gaze lowering.   
  
“No, sir,” she mumbled, lifting her fingers up to the start of her button-up shirt, undoing it with some embarrassment. Folding it and placing it aside, she let her skirt follow; if the zebra stopped fiddling with the instruments stretched out on the table next to the bed for a moment to admire the dove-tiger hybrid’s feminine form, he didn’t make it obvious, and she glanced over the table like she wanted to offer another protest, though his sharp gaze cut it short before she could even begin to express it. Swallowing nervously, she finally moved to lay back on the examination table as commanded, and the zebra moved towards her feet first, pressing a little button that buzzed in a few assistants. They were a female chipmunk and a squirrel, both pretty things though there was no pity in their eyes Little by little they moved around her, snapping her ankles into the corners of the table, spread just enough where they could feasibly move between her thighs if they needed access to any of the skin or the soft tissues there.   
  
She still had no clue what they were doing, but before they were done, they’d managed to successfully strap her wrists to the sides of the table as well. As she watched, they unlatched little hinges under the table’s support frame, and parts of it slid away from her sides to place her arms straight out in a ‘T’ shape from her body. When she tried to adjust her arms, she found that it was nearly impossible to move the more than half an inch in their bindings at most, and in discomfort, she frowned with a glance to the zebra.   
  
“How long do I have to stay like this?” Gina questioned, and he gave her a severe glance, as if displeased with the fact she’d even questioned him.   
  
“Until we decide to give you a break. Our facility is currently testing for pain receptor response and the ability to stimulate the nerves without causing direct damage to the body. So, you’ll be testing pain theory for us.” The smile he gives is nothing short of fake and strained, his eyes narrowing as he pulled back in favor of beginning to pull on his latex gloves, taking his sweet time in letting them fit to his fingers and palm. The assistants stood by, ready to move at the first sign of instruction from him.   
  
For now, she could only squirm, nervously moving to open her mouth again to ask further questions—though before she could get a word out, the zebra moved forward and secured a strip of fabric over her features and between the opening of her beak, successfully gagging her and keeping her from making too much noise over the next few hours of what was to come. Her next noise was confused at the gag, though she watched as he did a little more digging, before producing a strange device in hand that had two little prongs on an extended wired that pulled away from the main box. He could move the wire to wherever he wanted to, and she tried not to flinch away as he placed the two prongs at first against one of her nipples, unsure of what it was going to do. He’d said ‘pain receptors’, which she hadn’t initially understood until he pressed a little button on the box in his hand, and suddenly a surge of electricity broke through the wiring where the prongs were pressed tenderly on either side of one of her nipples.   
  
Gina let out a scream against the fabric in her beak, her back arching instantly to try and squirm and express the pain that was shooting through her. Gina’s eyes went so wide that it was clear to see the pale white iris in comparison to her blue one, and how the whites of her eyes stood out clearly around them, with her pupils dilating in response to the severity of the pain.  Despite how she squirmed and struggled, there was no end to the pain until the zebra decided well enough that he was done analyzing the response the was getting. Now instead, he moved the prongs to her other breast, holding the nipple there between the prongs as well. She began to squirm, anticipating the pain and even fearing it now.  
  
With no regard for the fear that flashed across her features or the pleading little noise that escaped her—instead, he interrupted the noise by activating the little box again, and another series of volts flooded through her. The squeal slipped through the gag once more as she convulsed briefly, though this time it was a much shorter sensation—which was then replicated when he pulled the prongs away by the little wire connected to them, and let it dangle gingerly against the curve of her neck before he harnessed it to press it straight to the little pressure point between her neck and shoulder. The convulsions worsened from there, stiffening as the wings folded under her extended as far as they could with her wrists strapped to the table, shivering to the point her feathers rustled and stiffened at all angles until he pulled the wire away again. There were tears welling at the corners of her eyes though the zebra seemed nonplussed by her pain, instead gesturing to one of his assistants to come over and observe her reactions with a little clipboard, monitoring her responses and making notes on whether or not the little prongs left any evidence or damage across her skin. Apart from a light scorch to her feathers at her neck, the prongs didn’t seem to have any nasty lasting effects as long as he didn’t leave them placed against her for too long.   
  
He paid careful attention to that in particular, gingerly moving to press it down to her breast bone, shocking once there and causing one yelp. He moved it down in a little, shocking trail down the softness of her belly, to dip briefly into her navel, making her give a subtle yelps and whimpers against her gag, until finally, each little shock only made her give a startled wince. She pulled instinctively against her bindings, jerking the straps holding down her wrists and ankles and making each of the little metal clasps of the bindings jingle with each movement. They proved to give no leeway, and her faint noises of protests began to grow much more audible whenever he moved the prongs down lower. She started to shift and jerk a little more when she felt the strangely electric little sensation of the prongs not-quite-touching as they moved down, making the fur of her lower belly arch up like they were charged with static, and then they pressed down just below the hem of where her pants would normally be, making the muscles of her stomach tense and flex against her will before it brushed lower. The brevity was of a lover’s touch rather than a scientific experiment, and he deactivated the electricity for just long enough to move it down between the lips of her labia.   
  
Not looking up to see the panic in her eyes, while also ignoring the way her muffled noises turned to a desperate whine of protest, he looked up to his assistant to make sure that she was properly recording the experiment before flicking on the voltage once more. If she had been loud before, the noise she made against the gag was a pure scream as the raw electricity thrummed through her clit, a prong on either side of it and her hips jerked with as much leeway as they could—until he pulled back with a little scoff.   
  
“Strap her hips down, too.” He instructed, displeased with how much she was still able to move her torso even with her arms and legs strapped down. With tears in her eyes, she slowly shook her head, as if to plead and beg for some kind of leeway against what was happening to her—and neither doctor nor assistant paid her any mind. The other assistant moved forward, lifting a belt upwards to fasten it securely over her hips to keep her from wriggling there anymore, and to test the duration of her ability to withstand the pain, they applied a few more shocks directly to her clitoris, recording how long it took for her to roll her eyes backwards in pain, and low long it was until she stopped moving entirely, the current of the volts either numbing her or pushing her to the point of near unconsciousness. They continued the testing until it became obvious they might cause physical damage. While they weren’t prohibited from actually harming her, it wouldn’t align well with their tests to do limited lasting damage.   
  
While she teetered on the verge of unconsciousness, they put the device away, and one of the assistants moved over with a cold bucket of water, pouring it in a harsh flood over Gina’s face. The effect was immediate, dragging her back to full consciousness with a noise that was nearly pathetic. After informing her that the entire duration of her punishment would be spent on that table, they moved to hook her up to a tube down her throat that would feed her while still keeping her silent for the night—little did Gina know, the shocking had been going on for hours, with each minute of pain dragging slowly on and making the minutes blur into the course of a day. Along with the feeding tube, the trio also inserted a catheter into her urethra, which was more of a discomfort than an actual pain, just so that any waste produced by the feeding tube would be taken care of and they wouldn’t have any mess to clean up in the morning when they came back into the lab.  
  
The next morning, she was barely conscious when they resumed their testing, and to her misery, it was a more in-depth analysis of how the electricity would affect her. There was some part of her that made it difficult to believe that it was all happening, but the same testing continued on for the duration of the day, leading eventually back with the feeding tube and into the third day. By now she was certain that she was numb to the shocking pain and was hoping that the third day would be easier—though to her alarm they didn’t begin their session with the same expected voltage.  
  
“Prepare the hinges on the table. We’re going to put some strain on the joints and test her maneuverability before we go onto stage three,” the zebra spoke aloud, his command firm as he gestured towards where she was still, even after so long, strapped down onto the table. The assistants, two new ones today, moved forward without any more hesitation than what the first two had had; one was a pretty deer and the other a delicate looking redbird, and she didn’t want to think of just how many assistants to the place might see her in such a humiliating position before her sentence was carried out fully.   
  
The redbird moved to her legs while the deer moved up to her head, both reaching under the table to jostle it a little, but judging from the soft jingle of metal, there were subtle clasps just out of sight. She wondered if they were to her bindings, though she was quickly answered—and proven wrong—when the table started to suddenly move under her. Though her legs had already been spread in the way she’d been strapped down, suddenly they were moved wide apart, making her flinch a little at the way it made her hips grind in their joint sockets to spread them wide. Though her arms had already  started in a t-pose, she could feel the way the table had leeway and give under her elbows, and that was a thought that concerned her. It didn’t let her move her arms of her own volition, but it did let the deer slip a crank into the table under her right shoulder, and slowly start to turn it to bring Gina’s arms back to full, painful tension. She realized too late what the sensation was; the crank was slowly stretching out the table under her, with her wrists still strapped down to the furthest parts of it. Gina let out a slow, strained grunt as the metal of the table groaned with slight resistance. The click of the winding table sounded like a socket wrench turning slowly, but instead of tightening anything, it had begun to push the further ends of the split arms outwards. Soon, the bindings around her wrists were taut, though despite the parts around her wrists being leather, they were pulling as slowly and as surely as they would if they were chains instead.  
  
Gina gave a slow little groan of exertion as gradually, the straps kept her wrists firmly in place as the segments of the table began to spread apart. She could feel her elbows popping initially, the release of air in the joints that would have happened if she’d stretched well, though the subtle clicking of the crank didn’t stop there. The gag had been replaced with a device that kept her beak open but kept her from moving it up and down or forming words; the zebra already knew that she would only beg if she was given the opportunity to talk, so instead, he had fastened her with the open-mouth hole that let them monitor her production of excess saliva under duress, and let her throaty sounds slip free. Now, after the pop of her elbows, her wrists followed, and then afterwards, the thick, uncomfortably deep sound of her shoulders popping followed. The noise that wheezed from her lungs was nothing short of another slow whine. The pops had been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t painful, yet.   
  
“Ten percent more,” the zebra commanded, and on the order, the deer moved to turn the crank ten more times. Around the fourth crank, she started to feel the slow ache in her wrists, and around the sixth was when things truly started to become painful. When her wrist gave no more leeway, strained and aching, her elbows had started to hurt as well. When she tried to relax, it only made it that much easier for  the bindings and the slow movement of the table to pull at her joints, now that they had very little resistance from the tension of her muscles.   
  
“Start with her legs,” he instructed then, and the redbird that had settled down between them slotted a crank into another hidden lever system, and began to twist it as well. The crank began to move the slots at her ankles, knees, and hips apart, slowly creating more and more distance between them. This assistant moved much more quickly than the deer did, however, and it wasn’t long until the gaps in the sections of the examination table became much more obvious. Gina groaned as the tension started to rise; there was already a painful tightness running through the course of nearly her entire torso from the vibrating shifts of agony from her stretched arms, but as she felt her ankles pop, then her knees, she knew that it was about to be a feeling that ran through her every fiber. Her tongue lolled in her mouth briefly, trying to keep too much saliva from building up as she groaned openly from the sensation. Her breath was coming in open, audibly rough pants by then, and a gurgle of agony slipped free when she felt the zebra push the redbird aside between her legs an slowly start to crank himself. He directed her to take notes on the situation, and to make sure that there were no ligaments or tendons that were actually being damaged in the process. They were going to push the test to her very limits, and leave her like that for the duration of twenty four hours.

It felt like every muscle in her was being pulled, like every shift of movement in her arms and legs was actually some sort of terrible cramp that she couldn’t move or bend her limbs to alleviate any of the tension or pain. Only when she had been stretched to the point where any further movement or gesture made her give a throaty, unimpeded scream that made both of the assistants glad the room was soundproofed, did the stretching stop. Satisfied with the fact that she was left suspended in a state of constant pain where even _breathing_ made her whimper, the zebra moved forward again—and began to thump her joints at first. The little straining aches vibrated back through her stretched limbs and when she no longer reacted as much as he wanted to test, he began to push and pull at the already stretched joins. He pulled first at each elbow, moving around her to stretch her arms like a taunt bow string. One by one, he let them snap back into place from where he bent them side to side, drawing out a startled little yelp for each time her arms or legs snapped back into place where they were held straight.   
  
He repeated this a few times before moving to repeat the process to her legs—and then she heard the words she hadn’t known she’d been dreading. “Leave her like this for the night. Situate the feeding tube as normal.” With tears streaming from her eyes, she desperately shook her head, before finding that even moving the muscles of her neck and upper back was enough to make the pressure in her arms even more unbearable. Still, they had not listened to any of her prior pleads, so there was no mind paid to this one, either—her feeding tube was slipped down her throat with the same precision as it had been before, and she was left stretched tight over the examination table. Once again, the catheter was pressed into her, and she was left overnight in the same tight, uncomfortable position. It was a test of her endurance as well as her tolerance to pain, and slowly, she was sure that she was becoming able to tolerate that pain.  
  
At least, she had been sure until the next day proved to be worse; her arms had gone numb until they’d started it off with two more cranks to both her arms and her legs, renewing the splicing pain through her limbs. What made it worse was the regular use of a cattle prod that the zebra had brought in that morning. The day progressed with the tension lingering each time they gave the crank half a click, followed quickly by an agonizing shock to a random location near a join but not quite enough to do any damage permanently—and relief only came when they left her in peace for the fourth night. Their week was starting to come to an end, and the doctor knew that he had just one more day to use her vulnerability to his full advantage. On the fifth morning as they removed her feeding tube, she half-expected them to resume quickly with the shocking. Instead, to her horror, they stretched out her limbs by one more click to surge life into the pained joints once more, and the zebra gave the command to execute their last stage.   
  
She didn’t have any idea how much worse it could get before they started leaving her with lasting damage. The first assistants were back, and now the squirrel had rolled over a cart just out of her eyesight, between her legs. While she couldn’t see what the cart had on or in it, she could hear the rustle of metal on metal, and she could only fear that they were going to use the electric current on her genitals again. However, she could feel the catheter being removed, though not without a strange, cold metal replacing it. It was bigger than the thin needle used for the catheter, but at the same time, the size was uncomfortable. It felt like it was stretching her urethra out little by little, but the discomfort gradually began to worsen as it pressed deeper. She realized quickly enough that it wasn’t a replacement catheter, considering it was going much further into her than the catheter possibly could, and with a faint scream, she felt it start to expand. What had started off initially as a small sounder was expanding in size, and widening at the top of her urethra.   
  
A bare glimpse down gave her enough of a sight on it to realize that the sound wasn’t just a thick metal rod being pressed into a hole that nothing was supposed to go _into,_ but it was also attached to a funnel that was slowly stretching her urethra out. She could see just the wide tip of it pressed upwards and vulnerable, so the assistant could see straight down into her—but she could also see that the assistant was lifting up a strange beaker of fluid that seemed mostly translucent though had an odd orange tint to it. Too late did she realize that the vial was being lifted up to the top of the funnel and only when she felt the vibrations of the liquid beginning to hit the metal siding did she realize that the assistant was pouring it into the funnel—and by effect, into her as well. She let out a sharp sound of protest, uncertain of what the fluid was, but as it hit the inside of her urinary tract, she was suddenly faced with such a sharp pain that she could only assume that it was some sort of acid.   
  
In truth, it was simply a heated liquid with some mildly irritating debris added to it. Like the rest of their experiments, it wouldn’t do permanent damage, but it certainly stung intensely at first, and she whined as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as they had for several days now whenever she felt a more ‘stinging’ sensation rather than an outright agonizing one. It was pure nerve reaction, though before she could register that the liquid vial was being taken away in favor of another one being lifted. This one didn’t have the same orange tint, but instead seemed to shine a soft teal-green in the light. She could feel her inner muscles pulsing and twitching in response to the strange flood of the earlier liquid being poured in her, contracting in her bladder in terrifying ways, though the new liquid was cold where the other dose had just started to heat up from her own body temperature. It was an agonizing mixture, and when the second liquid was fully poured into her, she began to feel the sharp, painful contrast of the ice-cold fluid in contrast to the one that had started warming inside of her. She gave a wheeze of pain  as the cold hit her flesh, chilling it on the spot and making the sensitive, tender flesh on the inside of her urinary tract tense and retract once more.   
  
It was hard to breathe when dealing with this new pain coupled with the bound and stretched tightness of her limbs. She couldn’t squirm to adjust or try to pull away because any movement at that point just woke up the spots that she’d allowed to become numb, and the sensation of the liquids was a new, deeper, intimate agony that she hadn’t expected possible on her last day at the testing facility. Just when she thought that they were done with the liquids, though, the assistant moved two more vials up again—one red this time, and the other a soft, peachy orange. The minute the two liquids mixed as they poured down the funnel, they began to fizz and bubble in a reaction to one another, and then they continued to sizzle while they slipped into her urinary tract. It burned in a way that suggested that it wasn’t actually burning her—that the sensation alone was making the bubbles in the solution pop uncomfortably as they mixed on their way down into her.   
  
While it was painful enough to feel the way the liquids seared through her, it was an entirely new experience when it hit the two liquids already inside of her, adding to the strange pressure building up in her bladder. It was uncomfortable with the two hit the fluid that had already stirred in her, making the entire concoction start to bubble up and roil inside of her bladder. She whined aloud again, squirming as she felt the painful burning sensation escalate, but at that point, there was nothing she could possibly do to get that pressure out while the narrow tip of the sound-plus-funnel kept the liquid going into her instead of going out.   
  
The zebra watched the reaction, taking regular glances into the funnel to make sure the mixing fluids were bubbling back up in spite of the mixture fizzling away inside of her. Finally, after a drawn out, intense several minutes of analyzing the response, he finally told them to cut the experiments; they had an hour before their facility closed, and they had to have her out by the end of the day. They weren’t going to let the fluids out of her just yet, but the assistant slowly withdrew the funnel and the sounding rod, and the pressure holding the fluid in her only increased by an exponential amount, making her groan in slow agony. She could swear that her stomach was poking out just over her hips, her bladder stolen and full with the strange liquids that had been funneled in, though they were less concerned with that as much as they were over slowly getting to the process of beginning to unhook her from the table.   
  
Even though they were slowly letting the table fold back in on itself to bring the cranked extension back in, it was still unimaginably painful to suddenly feel the rush of warm, fresh blood pump through her strained and stretched limbs. Fresh tears welled in her eyes as she gave a choked sob as one leg was freed, then the other. Slowly she was able to stir her legs to life, despite the jelly-like feeling that followed it, and while she explored the tender ache in her legs and the way it lingered up to her bladder, they freed her arms next. There was a bit of mistrust in her gaze as the assistants helped her sit up, but by then, her bladder was threatening to burst. It was all she could do to get her clothes back on in time and wobble her way to the bathroom before the facility closed. As she made her way to a stall to find her relief, Gina quietly reminded herself that she was immediately going to have to get a flying permit…  
  
But by the time she was done and signed out from her community service, she had already forgotten and was stretching her wings all over again and getting ready for the flight back home.


End file.
